


Invisible to a Fault

by Diricawl



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Human Experimentation, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diricawl/pseuds/Diricawl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wanted to know what being invisible is like? Well, too damn bad. This isn't some sort of disease you can catch or a skill you can learn. This is all talent, a god-given gift that I'm willing to give back at any time. Let's just say the style isn't really me. Mutation really is the right word for it, a little genetic "oops" that makes my life hell. I get into some military conflict, governmental scandal, and a couple of cat-fights... I'm just lucky like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisible to a Fault

I never registered for the army, the marines, or any other governmental shindig. Which makes me beg the question: how in the hell did I end up in Texas on a military base? I ain’t a reporter, an alien, or fucking Superman yet here I am in cell in a building that does not legally exist. They’ve yet to experiment but seems like it’s only a matter of time. Sure, there are plenty of mutants to choose from, but they had to go and pick me. I feel SO lucky.  
Maybe someone will rescue me….. Nah. Maybe if I was sucking Wolverine’s cock, but alas I’ve never met the guy or any of those show ponies. I am a one woman show. A loner. An orphan. A hobo. A chick without so much as a can to shake on the sidewalk. I think it wouldn’t be too wrong to think I’ll die in this concrete hellhole. At least there’s a flushable toilet.  
I don’t know how long I’ve been here but my legs have hairs two inches long… If only there was a time conversion chart, like half an inch is 70 hours or something. Four times seventy is FUCK, I can’t do math. Is it 320? And 24 hours in one day goes into 320 like over a hundred. And 30 days in a month goes into a hundred four times which means I’ve been here for fucking ever.  
No torture yet but I’ve had my blood drawn, I think. Sometimes I pass out and wake up with markings on my arm like I’m a fucking druggy. I think they’re poisoning the food with a sedative… A sedative, for you idiots, is a drug that makes you go night night. Don’t think that my lack of number skills makes me a dodo. It’s my lack of common sense that does, which is how I ended up in this pile of compost…Compost is a big pile of trash that people put outside made up of food scraps and weeds. Why? Because they’re idiots who think they’ll grow a garden and use the compost as fertilizer for their store bought dirt. Ugh. FERTILIZER is food for plants to help them grow up to have strong bones. It’s vegetables for your vegetables.  
What was I saying?  
Oh, right. My life inside a military shithole. How do I know it’s military? Or that it’s in Texas? Let’s just say I didn’t come here willingly, eh?  
I have got no clue as to when it’s day or night, winter or summer. So at some point, when my leg hairs are two inches long, (remember, from earlier?), I start to feel…different. Crappy. The world begins to shift and I find my head in the toilet ejecting every possible thing from body that it can, including my brains. It feels as if I’m flushing them away. The more time that passes the worse I feel. The heaving stops at some point and I pass out. I wake up to beeping noises.  
Hospital? No.  
Those beeping noises are from a heart monitor and some other doohickey I don’t recognize. I’m restrained, of course, though I don’t really feel like fighting. People in white with medical masks and goggles are over me. They jab me with needles and suddenly my veins are on fire. I would scream but all the energy is sapped from body and all I can do lay there. Time passes and my eyes get watery.  
I start thinking and wishing. Fuck, I wish they would torture me because at least then I could say uncle and they would stop. This is worse. This is experimentation. No control, false or otherwise, and that just sucks.  
The world doesn’t fade as I which I wish it would, but time passes and I’m still awake. The corners of my eyes are wet with exhaustion, a tear slipping out every now and then, but the pain keeps me lucid. The doctors stop prodding me with their sticks and most go away. One stays, watching me. Or I think he’s watching me but I can’t see his eyes so it’s hard to follow his gaze. I blink and he’s gone too. All I can see is the white LED light above me.  
That’s how it begins, if only that was how it ended. But alas, the world is cruel. They have ways to make me shift. By shift I mean use my mutant “powers” to become invisible. Some power. If only I could walk through walls and get the hell out of here.  
And they decide they love me so much they want some tokens. No, not just blood, but my skin, and not just a little circle here or there. They take it as fast as it will grow in huge sections from my thighs, ass, and stomach. They probably would have taken some from my boobs too if I had any. No one realizes just how thick a person’s skin can be until it’s removed. My small size gets smaller and any figure I had becomes DISfigured. Now there are lumps and dips. It’s really great when they decide they need to get skin WHILE I’m shifted which means I’m conscious and they’re blind. I know they can’t see me or my skin because the first time they tried it they ended up nicking something vital which causes blood to go everywhere, for me to become visible, and then pass out.  
This didn’t deter them, oh no. If at first you don’t succeed try, try until I’m dead. Oh, and did I mention they decided not to numb the area of skin so I could feel every little cut? Boy oh boy, was it fun.  
Seems like the hair on my legs stopped growing a while ago. Time passes so slowly, it’s hard to tell. All I know it that my hair as long as the tip of my ring finger to the second knuckle. I’m napping on my cot. Then a big BOOM! The world shakes and the walls crack. Another BOOM! More shaking but the walls hold, thankfully. Silence, and I fall back to napping.  
I’ve fallen back to sleep when shouting wakes me up. I grumble and turn over on the cot to face away from the door. Some people just don’t know how to use their inside voices.  
Lots of shouting, then hushing, and crying and screaming. More hushing. Yeah, that’s subtle.  
My door gets thrown open with a bang as it hits the wall and I shift to sit up with tired bleary eyes.  
“We got another one,” someone yells. I flinch because it’s so loud. Looking up I see a weird looking guy with bunch of piercings on his face. He’s wearing camo cargo pants and a greenish shirt that looks a bit too tight. Thank god he has a pudge or I would be looking for the cameras. I never trust a guy without at least one physical flaw.  
“Shit.”  
That comes from the next guy to enter who has the body of a Norse god and the face of a Vulcan. High, arching eyebrows that make it look as though he’s in a permanent state of curiosity, although now he looks rather shocked.  
Did I mention I’m completely naked?  
He takes a breath and I can’t help but want to tell him to take a picture….but my breath is heavy enough from all the excitement. I start to shake and my eyes keep wanting to close. It isn’t so much shock as fear. Who are these guys? What do they want? Are they going to kill me? The usual questions that jump into one’s head when one had been held and mutilated.  
The shaking in my hands starts to worsen and that gets the two guys moving. Pudge turns to address the people who I can’t see outside my room and Vulcan gets closer to me, inspecting me. He looks a little green to be honest.  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. I can’t help the snort that escapes me. I doubt he hears it since my voice it practically useless from screaming followed by prolonged weeks of silence. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”  
He’s looking me in the eyes now and I can’t stand the sadness in them, so I nod as I look away. It seems the nod is all it takes for him to lift me bridal style. I tuck my arms to my chest, cold and tired. And hungry. And thirsty. And itchy. My skin is very itchy. All my discomfort comes to the forefront of my mind so I try to distract it with my surroundings.  
Other guys are indeed in the hall dressed in a similar state of camo. It seems they’re all heavily armed and tan. They’re all tan which is a bit weird but then again I’ve only seen my own pale skin since for-fucking-ever. There are also a couple of naked skinny people, but they can all stand. A few look a little malnourished, but it isn’t like this is a retreat or something. Most are men who are a little past their prime, but it could be the beards. A middle-aged woman stands apart looking rather pissed as she tries to cover herself…unsuccessfully. She even has a couple of fat rolls and a healthier skin tone than most so she must not have been here all that long.  
“You got her?” asks another camo man. He’s shorter than the others but wider with what I’m guessing is muscle. His face is ugly with a nose that’s crooked and zit-scarred skin. The oily sheen on his wide forehead is also unappealing.  
“Yeah,” says the Vulcan. His chests rumbles when he says, “I’m good.”  
“All right,” replies Ugly, “let’s move out.”  
And just like that I’m carried out of my personal hellhole. We go through bright corridors with white concrete walls and past open metal doors. I don’t really notice how many turns we take or anything. All I can focus on is the ceiling. The lights are blinding and it feels like I can hear their buzzing despite the noise everyone is making. I can hear it over the slapping of bare feet and the jingle of guns. It’s so quiet it’s loud.  
Then the ceiling ends.  
We’re obviously in a very large room so I look about and notice chairs and tables that turned over. Something mushy is spread across everything and I notice a tray laying on an undisturbed table. Cafeteria? Huh. It never really occurred to me that such monster would eat in such a….ordinary way. Maybe I thought they didn’t eat at all.  
There is a huge hole in the ceiling. You could probably drive a car through it. A large flying thing is hovering overhead and the noise is so loud I start to wonder how I didn’t hear it before. It’s too big to be a helicopter and too small to be a plane. It’s sort of in-between. The name eludes me.  
Ropes start to drop down. I count four. Ugly starts to shout out names and words that I can’t understand but is apparently understandable by the camo guys as four step up and rap the rope around themselves with clips and hooks and shit. Then one gives a tug, and another and another until all four of them are being hauled up very quickly and smoothly. Maybe they have some sort of machine pulling the ropes?  
Time passes and the four ropes drop again but with harnesses this time. The camo guys help the nudes put everything on. I can’t help but think how uncomfortable it’ll be with nothing else to pad the straps…or cover the squishes. The guys actually have to shift their junk so it doesn’t get trapped. Everyone is rather quiet and the whole thing takes forever. But the guy holding me is pretty warm, so it’s not as bad as it was in the cell.  
Then a wave of wind catches my outer half and a shiver goes through me. This draws the Vulcans attention back to me. I can feel his eyes on me, and then I feel them lift.  
“Colt?” says the Vulcan, “what about her?” This grabs the attention of Ugly, who I now assume is named Colt, which is a weird name if you ask me. Colt looks at me and I look at him and I’m glad he only frowns at me instead becoming a depressed sod like the Vulcan, which I now find a little ironic considering a Vulcan is supposed to be emotionless.  
“Can you carry her up?”  
“Yeah,” replies Vulcan. This seems to settle whatever the question is which is good because I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my eyes open. Even now they are starting to droop.  
Four naked people go up and four ropes come down. They each have the holsters still attached but a camo guy who looks like a very large Elmer Fudd grabs a rope and takes the holster off. The Vulcan carries me over to him at the same time and proceeds to stand still as Elmer warps it around us. He takes a piece of the end and gives it to the Vulcan’s hand that’s holding my knees, although really the hand is free since my legs are draped over his forearm.  
With a tug we are in the air and my heart leaps to my throat. I grab Vulcan’s shirt on reflex, my fists firmly clenched and my eyes closed against this new fright. The wind whips past my skin and seeps into me, but the instant it takes root we are in the plane, slightly suspended off the black floor. Pudge is beside us, taking the rope from Vulcan to help release us. The Vulcan drops a little with me still in is arms which scares me a bit but the Vulcan pays my slight flinch no mind and quickly walks to the other side of the craft.  
There is a stack of folded green blankets that look rather scratchy sitting atop a plastic crate. The Vulcan shifts me so that he’s holding me with his left arm, his shoulder behind my back and his hand gripping underneath my legs. I’m a little squished but not uncomfortably so. He then proceeds to use his right hand to pick up a blanket and shake it open to drape it over me.  
It’s not as scratchy as it looks and is actually rather warm. A smile spreads across my lips as my eyes close and the slow warmth building within me pulls my mind into empty dreams.


End file.
